Wordle #271


To whom do I owe this ecstasy,
this birth of ten thousand stars?
I delve into your intricacies
without pretense or delicacy.
Tell me your secrets,
the horrors that persist on awakening.

In your effigy I have planted
the face of another and in mine
a mask of gelatin and barbed wire.
We lie in the name of intimacy, we lie
to preserve our most brutal illusions.

I measure each bounce,
the inflection of each smile
knowing that every nuance
is a joke of sorts.

I have not found a way
to subjugate temptation.
We break and calcify,
we thrive and plummet
myriad nodes of necessity.


3 responses to “Wordle #271

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